


From Within

by pudding_bretzel



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: A bit of gore, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst, Child Death, Father-Son Relationship, Gen, Hurt, Mind Control, Panic Attacks, Swearing, because Jason, but it's still Child death so beware, maybe some comfort, no happy ending, they're a Minor Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-14
Updated: 2019-03-17
Packaged: 2019-10-28 09:45:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,570
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17785094
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pudding_bretzel/pseuds/pudding_bretzel
Summary: Protecting what's important to oneself is instinct. When you see someone you hold dear getting hurt, you help. It's something that comes naturally. For a vigilante that instinct is extended to every being that is in need for help and that instinct doesn't stop just because they're not wearing their uniform.Or: When Jason tries to help the screaming child he finds in a dark alley, he never would've expected this night to turn into one of his worst nightmares. Or that it could be his last.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know where this came from and I don't know where it's going, but I kind of love it. This was meant to be a one-shot, but I'm already working on the next chapter, so much for that. As of right now this should be finished in 3 (maybe 4) chapters. But I won't make any promises.  
> Anyway, I hope you like it.

Jason awoke to the feeling of water filling his lungs. With a violent cough he turned his head to the side, trying to get rid of some of the fluid. Cold water ran down his face, landing in a splash on the hard ground beneath. Somewhere in his still foggy mind he registered that the concrete beneath his right cheek was wet as well and cold, heavy rain pouring down onto him. 

When all the water had left his lungs, he tried moving his arm, but found that he could barely move his fingertips. Only now he registered the biting cold that seeped through his clothes and the numb feeling of his whole body. _Fucking rain_ , he grimly thought and with a louder groan than he would admit and requiring more strength than he preferred, he dragged his arm over his chest and with agonizingly slow movements pushed his upper body from the cold and wet concrete.

Looking down onto the ground with a still blurry vision, he could think of only one question in that moment. Why was he sleeping on the concrete, in the middle of the night, while it was _fucking raining_? He couldn’t, for the love of God, remember how he ended up here, in a dingy alley in Gotham. And it was Gotham, without a doubt. His head may be mostly dizzy right now and he might not remember a thing about how he ended up here, but he would recognize the sounds of Gotham at night even in his next life. That, and someone stole his jacket and his watch. Because looking at his short-sleeved shirt and bare wrist showed him that both those things he’d definitely put on when he left his safe house this afternoon, were gone. So, either someone stole them or he’d done something with them himself and just couldn’t remember that as well. 

And since this was Gotham it could very well be the former, because stealing from an unconscious teenager in an alley while it was raining cats and dogs would fit almost every lowlife in this godforsaken city. 

Taking deep breaths through his mouth, Jason dragged his gaze up and through his wet bangs took his first look at his surroundings. He knew that should have been his first action and under other circumstances he would tear himself a new one for his sloppiness, but through his foggy mind, dampened by the cold, he should be happy he at least thought of it now. Better late than never, that’s what they always say, right?

At first, he could barely make out anything, his eyes needing more time than was normal to adjust, but soon he could safely say that his hunch had been right. He was in an alley, his back turned to the mouth and his gaze getting lost in the sheer endless depths of it. But before his eyes could start focusing on anything other than that he noticed the slumped form lying only a few feet away from him.

Blinking some more of the fogginess away he concentrated on the body, trying to make out more details. Their head was pointing towards him, though he couldn’t see their face. Brown shoulder length hair was splayed out on the floor and wet, just like everything else he could see. The clothes were a blur of happy colors, dampened by dirt and rain and who knew what else. Next to their body laid a flowery hairband. With agonizing slow thoughts Jason realized what he was looking at. It wasn’t just any body of some poor soul who’d fallen pray to Gotham’s harsh rules, but a child. 

A little girl.

With a spark of energy, he pushed himself off the ground, grunting and trembling like he was lifting a car and not just his own body. His vision turned fuzzy once more and a crippling pain shot through his head and down his neck with his rushed movements. He could feel all the blood draining from his head, leaving behind a prickling feeling all over his face. He lost his balance tumbled sideways into the trashcans and the wall of the alley, sliding back down in a wet and trembling heap. He opened his eyes once more, this time with less effort than the first and turned to look at the girl. He was even further away from her now. 

Sucking in a deep breath, he pulled himself forward, his arms gripping on the wet ground. He partly crawled, partly dragged himself towards the girl. With every inch that he got closer to her, he was able to make out more details. Her stripy socks and her bright green gumboots. The pink slicker with the neon orange hoodie that was still partly covering the back of her head. The most prominent thought in his head was, _she doesn’t belong here_. 

She didn’t look like a homeless kid, her clothes too clean, the colors not faded enough, too vibrant and in a too good condition for second hand clothing.

Finally, his gaze wandered to the only hand of hers he could see, lying with the palm upwards and covered in a dark red substance. 

Immediately his heart pounded harder against his chest, speeding up with every new red spot he found on her clothes and on the ground, mingling with the rain.

“H-hey,” he rasped out, his voice barely reaching his own ears. If he could spare the thought, he would’ve startled at the sound of his voice, but his sole focus was on the girl. With a trembling hand he reached out, and carefully pulled away the hoodie. His hand stilled, hoodie still in a tight grip and his eyes resting on her back. On her still and unmoving back. 

Now that he was close enough and his eyes had finally gotten back some of their original visual acuity, he could see the absence of her breathing. Reaching out once more with an even more trembling hand and a silent mantra of _please no, please no_ , in his mind, he pulled away the last bit of her hair still covering her face. 

He sucked in a sharp breath through his teeth and let go of her hair immediately. He had seen many things in his two lifetimes, especially in his second one, but seeing a child hurt or worse, dead, was something he would never be able to see and shake off as just another day in his fucked up life. And he knew he would never forget the face of this little girl.

Her face was distorted in an expression of pure agony, fear and panic. Her eyes wide open with dried and crusty tears of blood smeared around them, mixed with rainwater. Her mouth was wide open as well, frozen in a soundless scream, a plea for help. More blood escaped through her small nose that he could imagine not so long ago had been something her parents would have called her cute button nose. But now he could make out small tears that covered her nasal wings. Angry and dark veins were covering her face and went all the way down to her throat, presumably covering even more parts of her body. As if all of that hadn’t been enough already, he could also see blood escaping through her ear, seeping into her hair. 

He tried to tear his eyes away, barely being able to keep looking at her, but before he could manage, something else gained his attention. His gaze traveled back down to her nose, focusing more on what was seeping out of it and less on its condition. With a startled breath he stared at the pinkish slick and squishy substance that dropped onto the concrete in viscous globs. Slowly he started to grasp what he was looking at, and soon found himself swallowing down bile, while he kept on watching the girls brain matter escaping through her nose.

Whatever had killed her had been vicious and brutal. Judging from what he could make out in the dim light and her expression, her death must have been one of pure agony – slow and painful. And the fact that he’d woken up right next to her, without remembering how he’d ended up here, was disconcerting. Fear blossomed in his chest and made its way through his entire body in a tremble that almost made him lose his balance. 

“Fuck,” he mumbled under his breath, trying to get up. He needed to get away from here. Something in his mind that distantly reminded him of his self-preservation told him to leave and _get away_. Now! Under normal circumstances he would have started an investigation, found more clues, searched the scene for any hints as to what happened. But all of that was pushed back by his foggy mind and replaced with his need to get to safety. Another major reason to get away quickly, that he only realized now, was the fact that he wasn’t wearing his Red Hood gear. Neither his suit, nor his helmet, nor his mask. Nothing that would make him less conspicuous lurking at a crime scene like this one. 

Not that Red Hood lurking at one wasn’t conspicuous, but people feared him enough to not ask him any questions. 

He pulled himself up, using a trash can as support. The slippery surface made it hard for his numb fingertips to get a real grip but eventually he managed to stand on his two legs. He may be teetering and barely staying upright with his still thumbing headache and overall numb body, but he counted it as a victory when he managed to trip a few steps towards the opening of the alley. With slow and uncertain steps, he tumbled from one self-selected support to the next, altering between the wall and other objects high enough to lean onto. 

When he reached the end of the alley he clung to the gutter and leaned against the wall. Taking a few deep breaths, he took his first look at the city since he’d regained consciousness. 

It was night. Late enough for an increased number of thugs to hang around, but still early enough to have some commoners around as well. The traffic lights and other bright signs that blinked in the distance, trying to get passersby’s attention were lost to him, blurring together in one neon mess. His eyes may have recovered enough to see his immediate vicinity, but anything further away than a few feet was still unfocused. But they were good enough to make out the grimaces the people passing him made. 

To be fair, there were even some concerned looks in-between the more disparaging, cautious or straight out disgusted looks. 

For a small moment he couldn’t help but think that he’d both seen worse and been worse than how he looked now. Though he still had to admit that he did have a pretty shabby look going. Soaked to the bone with nothing on him other than a plain sleeveless shirt, some black jeans and his combat boots and being covered in who knows what – he silently prayed there was no blood from the girl anywhere on him. Beyond that, he was probably looking as crappy as he felt and clinging to the gutter wasn’t really helping to distract from his poor appearance. 

With another gush of cold water running down his back and giving him one of the worst shivers since waking up, he finally set into motion again. He hesitantly let go of the gutter, finding his legs to be stronger and his steps steadier. Slowly but surely, he made his way down the streets. At first, he didn’t have a real goal in mind, just trying to get further away from the alley. Though he was still tumbling here and there, his body recovered by the minute. 

His head continued to be a bitch, headaches not lessening even a bit, but his vision had once again returned to normal. The reason for his lasting unsure gait also wasn’t his heavy and aching body anymore, but more the overall numbness from the cold that had finally managed to reach his legs as well. 

When he finally looked up from the flooded sidewalk, he realized with some highly contained delight that he was close to one of his safe houses. 

One of the few that had warm running water a semi comfortable bed. 

Without wasting any energy on the thought, whether the strenuous climb up the five flights of stairs was really worth it – because of course it fucking was – he headed straight towards the building. 

It was a colossal pain in the ass to reach his safe house. Half way up the stairs his legs almost gave out and he had to take a break. Once his breath wasn’t as labored and his legs had stopped their annoying shaking, he’d resumed his ascent. He was beyond thankful that nobody had seen him in his misery when he slowly and with screaming joints pulled himself up with the help of the handrail. Instead of cold water it was now cold sweat dripping down his neck and into his shirt, his shivering from the cold having been replaced by a searing heat that he feared would burn him up from the inside. 

Now, standing in front of the door to his safehouse and fumbling with the key to open the damn thing, he seriously contemplated why exactly he hadn’t accepted Bruce’s offer to install an electric lock. Although he had to admit, he didn’t know if he would actually be able to access that either in his current condition. No, probably not. But he was sure his past-self had had a good reason to decline. Even if it was solely out of spite. Which, in fact, probably had been his reasoning. 

After what felt like minutes of trying to open the door he finally succeeded. When the door opened, he lost his only support and he stumbled forward into the hallway of his safe house. With a groan and crash he landed on the floor. He was close to just stop trying and stay there on the floor and sleep until life had decided what to do with him next. Another violent shiver ran through his body and he closed his eyes. Instead of getting a few seconds of rest though, he could only see the little girl. Her cold body that was still lying in the cold rain and her terrified expression and all the blood. 

The sole thought of her was harrowing. But it also reminded him of why he should get up and take care of this mess. Someone had to find out what had happened to her, who had done this and if they were still doing it, killing innocent children with such gruesome methods. If he wouldn’t do it, no one would. This was Crime Alley, no one would care about another dead child, as sad as it was. The only ones that would, were either the few honorable cops or the bats. Only downside, none of them frequented this part of the city of their own accord without a solid reason. 

It was up to Jason to either find out himself, or at the very least alert the bats to the threat. Despite his reluctance to talk, let alone work with them, this was more important. The life of a child – the life of anybody – was more important than his stubbornness. 

For the fourth time this evening, he ignored his screaming muscles and the throbbing of his head and pushed himself upward. He made his way to his bathroom, aiming straight for the bathtub to fill it with warm water. He really hoped he could still prevent getting sick, though he doubted it strongly. Considering that he’d woken up on the cold concrete after lying on it for who knew how long and then walking through the cold rain, the likelihood was zero. 

When the water finally reached the right temperature, he made his way back to look at himself in the mirror. Maybe he had suffered a blow to his head that would explain his headaches or his bad vision after waking up. 

Trembling hands gripped the white porcelain of his sink to keep him upright, as his eyes turned to the person reflected in the mirror. He blinked twice, waiting for the black dots on the edge of his vision to go away. As soon as they were gone and he could really see himself, he froze. One thing he could immediately say was that he looked as bad as he felt. No, he looked even worse. 

His skin was ashen, whiter than he’d ever seen it, making his white fringe look gray in comparison. His hair was laying heavy and wet against his sweaty skin, emphasizing the paleness even more. On his forehead he could see an angry bruise blossoming – maybe from when he’d lost consciousness? Eyes that were normally hard and vibrant looked tired and milky and stood in stark contrast to his pale skin. His eyes were bloodshot, more red than white and were surrounded by dark shadows. His nose and his upper lip were covered in crusty blood. Blue veins covered his neck, disappearing beneath his shirt. 

That was when his eyes fell on his once gray shirt. It was now covered in dirt and grime from the alley. But that wasn’t what made his breath catch in his throat. There were splatters of blood covering the front of his shirt. On his chest were small dots, most likely from his own nosebleed. But the other ones were the ones responsible for his short breaths. 

Small handprints of blood were covering the lower half of his shirt. As if something had clung to the fabric, tearing at it. 

Or as if a little girl had desperately tried to find something to ease her pain and had turned to the first person she’d found. 

With a shuddering breath he lost his grip on the porcelain and sunk to his knees. Since waking up in that alley and finding that little girls corpse the only thing he’d wanted, was to remember what the hell happened. If he was somehow responsible for her death. But now, with all these marks on his body and the damning clues that gave no room for debate, that showed that yes, no matter what, he was directly involved in this, he was no longer so sure he really wanted to know the truth. 

Even shakier hands than before lifted the fabric of his shirt and he looked at the handprints once more. Whether he wanted to remember or not, he quickly realized he didn’t have a say in the matter. With another searing pain in his head it all came back to him. His decision to go out to eat late that afternoon. Bruce’s code green alert, calling all hands-on deck for a possible alien invasion. Running back towards his safehouse to get his gear and meet the other bats at the cave. And then, the alley. 

Every bit that came back to him, every piece of memory of that alley made his breath come shorter and shorter and he knew, that he was hyperventilating by now, but the memories wouldn’t stop coming. 

He remembered hearing that painful scream cutting through the night and then stopping at the alley. The girl had been sitting on the wet and dirty concrete, clutching her head and screaming with fear or pain. He’d hesitated at first, not sure if he should help her. She had probably lost her parents or something similar and while it was cruel leaving her alone, he still had Bruce’s stern voice in his head, talking of an alien invasion. But he would be damned if he’d ever leave a child to suffer. Not if he could help it. 

And back then he’d thought he could. 

While he’d slowly approached her, he called out, tried to get her attention but to no avail. When he’d reached her, he crouched down and put a hand on her trembling shoulder. That was when she’d finally lifted her head from her knees. It had also been the moment Jason realized that he should have left her alone. That he should’ve walked past this alley and ignored her blood curdling screams.

Her face was covered in blood and angry dark veins. Blood escaped through her eyes and from her nose. Blood-soaked hands had reached out to him and clutched onto the then clean shirt he’d worn under his jacket. Jason had recoiled, standing up in one abrupt motion to get away from her. But she’d followed him up, still holding onto him and screaming and, as he slowly came to realize, crying. He didn’t know what to do, how to help her or what was even hurting her. The scariest thing had been that he was truly terrified of her. Of a child. Because he didn’t know what happened to her. He had never seen something like this. 

He’d tried to disentangle her from his shirt, tried to get free. He’d felt bones cracking beneath his hands, but she still didn’t let go. At that point he’d known that he wouldn’t get away. Because whatever she was, her grip was too firm. At least that was what he’d thought, but one second she’d been fighting against him, her grip strong, and the next, it slackened and she’d collapsed in a heap, the last of her screams echoing through the alley. For a short moment Jason had thought he would be okay, that he’d overreacted. But then, only moments before her body had fully hit the ground, _something_ had escaped through her ear and, with a movement too fast for Jason to follow or react to, jumped at him. 

Something cold, wet and slimy had landed on his face, and before he’d had any time to react or defend himself there’d only been pain, fear and then, darkness. 

With a shuddering breath and another searing pain in his head he came back to himself. By now, he had long passed the point of hyperventilating and was in a full-blown panic attack. With hands that were too sweaty and trembling to do anything else than hold himself together, he tried pulling himself upwards. But he couldn’t. The pain building in his head was too much and the air in his lungs too little. 

One last terrified scream tore from his throat as he clutched his head and clawed, trying to reach what he knew was inside, but shouldn’t be there. But it was in vain. Pain, fear and cold was all he felt as he, once again, fell into darkness, with the only certainty that he would most likely never wake again.


	2. Chapter 2

Fifty-four minutes after Bruce had called in the whole team and informed them of an alien invasion, Timothy Drake landed on the roof of one of his brother’s many safe houses. The sole thought of an alien invasion should probably disturb him more than it did, but considering everything he’d already encountered, this was just another Friday night. Though, he had to admit, this was one of the more unusual invasions. There hadn’t been any big announcements, no battleship, nothing. Just one ship, that had triggered the Watchtower’s defense systems. 

So far, there was no sign of any aliens.

Remembering his current mission, Tim made his way over to the fire escape. This was the fourth safe house he’d been to in his search for Jason and if he were honest, he really hoped this would be the last. There were more pressing matters he had to attend to. For example, finding out where these aliens were hiding. 

But first, Jason.

He quickly made his way down the stairway. Once he reached the right window, he disabled the alarms and made his way inside. A quick glance through the room showed that there was most likely no one home. 

“Jason?” He called out, in hopes of getting an answer and finding the older man unharmed and just not interested in helping to avert an invasion. Which was ridiculous, but he needed to calm himself somehow, because on the one hand there was an alien invasion with aliens that had yet to be found and on the other a brother who hadn’t answered any of their calls and seemingly vanished off the face of the earth. 

To admittedly no one’s surprise, he received no answer. 

He’d already turned back towards the window and was almost outside when he heard something. Slowly and cautiously he made his way back inside and to the door of Jason’s bedroom. After listening for another few seconds, he concluded that what he heard was definitely a faucet. Besides that, there was only silence. There were no sounds of someone showering or cleaning. Only the sound of running water. 

Without making a sound he opened the door, his bo staff at the ready in his other hand. On the other side of the door he was greeted by a dark living room. The faucet in the open kitchen was off and there was no light on. The next thing he noticed was the open door adjacent. Either someone had broken in or Jason had forgotten to close his front door, which was impossible. Jason was too paranoid to be this sloppy, no matter his condition. 

Crouching low, Tim peeked into the room once more, now paying more attention to the shadows. A quick look with the heat sensor integrated in his mask showed no suspicious signatures. Declaring the room as clean, he made his first step into the hallway. When instead of a silent step he heard the splash of water as his foot touched the floor he froze. One look down revealed what he’d already deduced from the sound. The floor was flooded, water reaching from down the hallway into the living room. Immediately his eyes snapped to the door at the end of the hall. The door that was slightly ajar and from where a faint light spread. 

Another look with his heat sensor showed only one human shaped form in the room. And it was lying on the floor, unmoving and almost too cold to tell apart from the rest of the room. Sucking in a breath Tim made his way down the hallway. He had to force himself to not rush into the room all at once. He might be dead certain that the slumped form in the bathroom was his brother, but he couldn’t let his guard down either. 

Bo staff in hand and crouched in a defensive position, he stopped in front of the door. By now he could hear the faucet loud and clear, accompanied by the torrent of water splashing onto the floor and gushing into the hallway. Other than that, the room was as silent as the rest of the apartment. 

The knot in Tim’s stomach tightened and the bad feeling he’d had since Bruce had sent him to find his brother grew. He’d known it hadn’t been a good sign when there’d still been nothing but silence from Jason fifteen minutes after the alert was set off. His brother may be reluctant to come to the manor, much less the cave, but in cases of emergency he’d always answered. Even if it had only been to tell them to “Fuck off, you don’t trust me anyway”.

Bracing his feet against the door, he pushed it open while at the same time swinging his bo staff in the direction of the person lying on the floor. A small part of him had still hoped for the person to be awake and attack him, for it to be an intruder. Now, seeing his brother lying at his feet, his skin almost ashen and with blue lips, he felt that small part growing and dying at the same time. 

“Oh no.” His bo staff fell to the ground with a clank and a splash as he quickly made his way to his unconscious brother’s side. He gathered Jason in his arms, immediately noting how cold he was. It shouldn’t surprise him, not really, considering the floor he’d been lying on was flooded with cold water. Still, this did not bode well. Tim had no idea how long Jason had already been lying there, so the chance of him getting pneumonia was high. If he hadn’t already. 

He pulled his left glove off his hand and pressed two fingers against Jason’s neck. With bated breath he searched for a pulse. When he finally found it, albeit a weak one, he couldn’t help the relieved sigh that escaped him.

Softly brushing the older teen’s hair back, Tim felt the heat that was already starting to come off Jason’s forehead. He didn’t know how much of the fluids on his brother was water and how much was sweat, but he was pretty sure at least a good amount of it was the latter. 

He quickly took in his surroundings, trying to find something to get his brother’s temperature back up. Unfortunately, the water had obviously turned cold long ago, so a warm bath was out of the question and there was nothing else to heat him up with, except maybe the towels on top of the small cupboard. He needed to get him to the cave.

Turning on his comm he sent a quick message. After he got a confirmation from Alfred that the Batmobile was on its way, he turned his comm off again. No need to get distracted or distract the others. They had other important things they needed to focus on right now and his laid in his arms, shivering more and more by the minute. 

With a plan already forming in his head, Tim maneuvered Jason into a steady hold and slowly stood. “Why do you…n-ngh-need to be so heavy, Jason!” Grunting under the heavy weight of his brother, he grabbed the other one’s lower arm, positioned on Jason’s chest, with both of his hands. Then he supported the rest of Jason’s weight on his leg and slowly made his way out of the bathroom. Carefully he maneuvered them both around his bo staff and through the wet hallway. Once he reached the living room, he only debated for a few seconds whether to lay Jason down on the couch or his bed and heaved his brother straight into his bedroom. 

When he reached the bed, he carefully laid Jason down on one side of the king-sized bed while also trying to keep the cover from getting wet. After making sure that the older teen would stay where he was, Tim made his way back into the bathroom. He turned off the faucet and opened the drain. Next, he retrieved his staff and took all the towels he could find. On his way back into the bedroom he quickly closed the still open front door – no need to attract the attention of some nosy or concerned neighbors – and swiftly returned to his brother’s side. 

After laying down the towels at the foot of the bed he searched through Jason’s closet in hopes of finding some clean and warm clothes. He managed to find a complete set of underwear, a fluffy hoodie, some sweatpants, a pair of socks and, to his surprise, a soft and warm blanket. Turning back to the bed he put all his findings on the dry side, then he started stripping Jason down and getting rid of the drenched clothes. 

Once he was rid of all his clothes, Tim quickly turned Jason over onto the dry side of the bed and dried his wet and clammy body, then he quickly redressed him and built a cocoon of blankets around him. Then, the only thing left to do was wait for the Batmobile to arrive, which hopefully wouldn’t take too long. 

Taking a seat on a chair Tim had brought in from the living room, he took a closer look at Jason’s wounds. Before, he hadn’t had any time or thought to spend. His sole focus had been to get Jason dry and warm and to the cave. Now he could finally examine the bruise on Jason’s forehead and the blood coating the lower half of his face, as well as his sunken in eyes. 

Judging from the bruise he’d most likely suffered a blow to head sometime during the evening, so in order to eliminate the possibility of a concussion he took out the penlight from one of his pouches. With one hand he held the light, while the other held open Jason’s eye. As the light fell onto the eye Tim couldn’t help but suck in a sharp breath through his teeth. Jason’s eye was bloodshot, patches of his sclera were a deep red, not letting through any white. A quick look at his other eye showed the same results. 

“What in the…,” Tim mumbled while he started testing the reflexes. To his relief they reacted just fine, so Jason at least didn’t have a concussion. Still, his red eyes were disconcerting and one more reason for the Batmobile to hurry up. 

Further examinations showed nothing wrong with Jason. Or nothing wrong that Tim knew of. There was no hint as to why he’d had a nosebleed or where else the blood could have come from. But the protruding dark veins all over Jason’s neck and up his cheeks – and as Tim had seen earlier, also on the rest of his body – were something Tim couldn’t find any cause for. Those weren’t normal symptoms for a cold – which Jason most definitely would have in a few more hours – or pneumonia. 

He could only hope that Jason didn’t have any internal bleeding that caused this. The quick scans with Tim’s gauntlet hadn’t showed anything of the sort, but this was only for rough injuries. The gauntlets wouldn’t be able to detect smaller wounds. That was what he needed the medical equipment in the cave for. 

“What is going on here?” Tim let out a heavy sigh, letting his head fall into his hands.

As if answering to his desperation there was a deep roar reaching his ears only seconds later. “Finally,” he said, standing up from his chair and starting to disentangle Jason from his cocoon. 

He pulled the last piece of fabric away, when suddenly Jason let out a deep groan, his body flinching. Quickly taking a step back, Tim waited to see if Jason had calmed down completely, before resuming his task. He let out a deep breath through his nose before he said “Don’t worry Jay, I’ll take you back to the cave and then everything’s going to be fine.” He quickly gathered Jason up in his arms once again and made his way out of the safe house. 

When he finally reached the Batmobile in a nearby alley, he made a vow to remind Jason that he owed him at least one year of free meals at his own expense, once he was well again. 

After strapping Jason in and cranking up the heat Tim sped off towards the closest entrance to the cave. Jason was still unconscious and alarmingly still next to him. Tim had to check if he was still breathing every few seconds just to calm his already strained nerves. He knew that logically Jason wouldn’t just stop breathing out of nowhere, he had luckily found him just early enough to prevent the worst damage, but Jason had still not woken up and besides the flinch back in his apartment he hadn’t moved an inch yet. 

The drive back to the cave was, to Tim’s utter relief, uneventful. He had just parked the car on its usual spot and got out of the driver’s seat, when Alfred was already coming towards him. He couldn’t help but feel some of the tension drain from him at the sight of the butler. Tim prided himself in being one of the best out of all the bats in the medical field, but he also wasn’t haughty enough to refuse the help of someone as skilled as Alfred when it came to care for an ill or injured ally. No one was as practiced as Alfred in that regard. 

“Master Timothy, I hope you haven’t come across any trouble on your way here?” Alfred greeted him, already on his way to the passenger seat where Jason was still slumped in a sweating mess. 

“No, Alfie, thankfully and surprisingly not.” Tim tried not to smile at Alfred’s attempt to lift the mood a bit and distract him. But it was hard to ignore the nagging voice in his head that reminded him incessantly of an alien invasion and that he needed to figure out what happened that had his brother collapse in his flooded bathroom. 

“Good to hear,” the elderly answered and opened the car door. Jason still hadn’t moved an inch and as Tim saw now, his breathing was unsteady. “Whatever happened to you, Master Jason?” The butler sighed while Tim made to free Jason from the seatbelt and slowly wound the other’s right arm over his shoulder. 

“You wouldn’t happen to know something, Master Timothy?” Alfred asked as he took Jason’s other arm and helped Tim heave him out of the car. The teen felt bad needing to resort to the help of the elder man, but he wouldn’t incline Alfred’s help in this case, again. Jason was just too heavy for him alone to carry him without trouble. He was still glad that no one had been there to witness him almost letting Jason slip and fall down a flight of stairs back in the older teen’s apartment building. 

“Sadly, no. I found him in his bathroom. The bathtub was overflowing with water, flooding the whole room and the hallway. To top it off, his front door was open, but there was no sign of a forced entry or a struggle anywhere in the apartment. It’s as if he came home, wanted to take a bath and just collapsed.” And wasn’t that the scariest part in all this? Tim couldn’t think of a good explanation as to why Jason had collapsed. The only thing that came close would be the cold that was slowly but surely transforming into a flu. But that still didn’t explain Jason’s bloodshot eyes or his unconsciousness. 

“We’ll find out what’s wrong with the lad, Master Timothy, don’t worry,” Alfred assured him, presumably sensing Tim’s unease with the whole situation, like he always did. Sometimes Tim couldn’t help but ponder if the butler wasn’t some kind of meta after all and they just hadn’t figured it out yet.

After Jason was settled in one of the beds in the med bay, Alfred immediately started examining him. Despite Tim having already told him, what he’d found, or rather, what he hadn’t found, the butler wouldn’t leave Jason’s health to chance and overlook something. 

Ten minutes in and Alfred had still not found anything that would explain Jason’s collapse. He turned back towards a fretting and only slightly hovering Tim with a tight smile. “Master Tim, I appreciate your concern for your brother, but I do think you have more important things to attend to.” And if that hadn’t just been a polite way of the butler to tell him to get out of his way and skedaddle, Tim didn’t know what else. But in the end, Alfred was right. As much as he wanted to stick around and wait for the butler’s final results, he still had an alien invasion to take care of with the rest of his family and the Justice League. 

Tim gave a small nod. “Alright. Keep me posted?”

“Of course, Master Timothy,” Alfred promised with a reassuring smile. Then he turned back towards Jason, determined to find out what was responsible for his condition. Tim stepped back out into the cave, and, knowing that Jason was now in good hands, could finally devote all his time to the real problem at hand. 

He took a seat at the batcomputer and activated his comm again. After he was in the picture and had all the newest updates, which were sadly not many, he started his own investigations. 

There had been no sightings of any alien lifeforms nor alien spacecrafts so far, aside from the one that had started all this. Tim was close to pin it all on a false alarm of the Watchtower, but the footage of the towers security system was proof enough that there at least had been something trying to enter earths atmosphere. After its destruction though, there had been nothing left to find. No hints as to what, who or where they’d come from. Though Tim’s biggest question still was, why. There had to have been a reason for a ship to head towards earth and then simply not answer the Justice League’s attempts at communication. If they had been running from somewhere or needed help or shelter in some other way, they would have answered the League’s call. 

Tim had been looking through records and other data for almost four hours when he finally tore his eyes away from the screen. He faintly remembered Alfred informing him that Jason was settled in and sleeping and that he would attend to his other duties in the manor. In all honesty, Tim couldn’t recall how much time had passed since Alfred went upstairs. 

He leaned back against the backrest of his chair and stretched his stiff limbs. Trying to stifle a yawn – and failing miserably – he finally decided to get himself some lifeblood from the kitchen upstairs. 

He more felt rather than saw the presence next to him, the moment his body recovered from his bout of fatigue. Before he was even able to so much as turn towards the person, there was a strong hand gripping his hair and yanking his head forward.

Pain exploded in his head when the left side of it crashed into the control panel. He felt sharp metal dig into his skin, ripping it open with an agonizing jolt from the hand still gripping his hair. His vision was white and before he could so much as make a sound it grew dim and he was blessed with a moment of unconsciousness.

Unfortunately, the moment of bliss only lasted for a few seconds. He came back to awareness to a hand squeezing his throat tightly. Sluggishly and still dazed he lifted his hands to the arm connected to the hand currently squeezing the life out of him. With all the power that was left in his limbs he scratched at the skin he could find under his desperate grip, trying to make the other let go. But it was futile. Even though he could feel warm blood on his fingertips, the hold on his throat didn’t loosen the tiniest bit and he felt himself slowly fainting once again.

His lungs burned in his chest, screaming for air, begging in unison with the faint voice in his head for some kind of salvation. He pried open his eyes, realizing that his left side was wet with liquid, and focused bleary eyes onto his attacker. With his head still throbbing in agonizing pain he could barely focus his eyes on the person in front of him. Once he finally managed to, he couldn’t help but be reminded of a night only a few years ago. The same eyes he could see now had back then looked at him with hate and disdain, only now he could find none of these emotions.

Before he finally passed out, he watched the indifferent features of his brother and the flash of the blade in Jason’s other hand as it descended down on him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, hello there, looks like you've managed to reach another cliffhanger. Congratulations!  
> No, but seriously, thanks so much for reading and also for the nice comments on the last chapter everyone, they really made my day!  
> I have to apologize for any inaccuracy in regards to the Watchtower, I'm not that well-versed with it and am making some stuff up as I go. But I hope you don't mind. Also, this was my first time writing Tim and it was very interesting but also fun. It's also a good exercise for another fic I've got planned which in some parts is also from Tim's POV, so please feel free to tell me if he's ooc.  
> As far I got the next chapter planned out in my head (which isn't much..), it's going to be the last one. And I'm sorry for any major grammar mistakes in this chapter. I'm tired as **** right now and almost fell asleep while proofreading this, but I wanted to post this today, no matter what!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry this took so long. This ending just didn't want to be written.. To top it off, finishing KH 3 really didn't help, but I finally finished the last chapter anyway. I don't know how this chapter escalated like this, but it kinda went out of control and is now over 5000 words long.. whoops.. but I hope you still enjoy it! (Also, beware the updated tags!)

“Batgirl and Black Bat found a dead girl in Crime Alley.” 

Bruce watched the screen, listening to Oracle’s fingers speeding over the keys of her console. His arms were still crossed over the bat symbol on his chest and his whole posture screamed stressed. After five hours since the alarm and still without any reports about any aliens left him tense and – though he’d deny it to anyone who asked – worried. 

None of the Leaguers had been able to gather any information from the wreckage of the destroyed ship. Because apparently the Watchtower’s attack hadn’t just immobilized the ship, no, it had completely pulverized it. Either the shot had accidentally hit a critical point in the ship’s construction, or the ship itself had initiated a self-destruct mechanism when it’d been hit. No matter the cause, the end result was, they had not a single clue to go on to find out what said aliens wanted. Were they the only ones? Were they here out of pure coincidence? Why had they come to earth? Why hadn’t they answered the League’s attempts at communication?

Maybe there wasn’t a real threat. Maybe it _had_ been a coincidence. But Bruce wouldn’t – _couldn’t_ – rest until he knew for sure. This was their planet to protect, it was their sworn duty to keep it safe. They couldn’t just stop looking without making sure that there was, in fact, no threat.

“A girl?” Bruce asked, unsure how a girl would have anything to do with their current situation. Nonetheless, he waited for Barbara’s answer. He knew she wouldn’t bother him with trivial information at a time like this if she didn’t think it somehow important.

“Yes and before you keep wondering, I do think this could be connected to our little unbidden guests. Looks like she’s been dead for about five hours. The most interesting thing about her though is the cause of death.”

When she didn’t continue and instead the typing on her keyboard resumed, Bruce gave an impatient grunt. “Oracle.”

“Give me a sec.” She pressed one last key and her face was replaced by the picture of a brunette girl, not much older than eleven, lying on the concrete of an alley. Despite the appalling sight of the dead girl, he quickly shut out everything else and just concentrated on the wounds he could see. He couldn’t get distracted now. 

“At first, we couldn’t find any apparent wounds that could have caused her death, but, B, look at her nose.” Her voice had turned grim, already foreshadowing what he was realizing, the longer he looked at the girl’s nose.

He’d already zeroed in on the body part before Barbara had finished her sentence. “Is that…”

“Her brain matter, yes. Well, her cerebrospinal fluid with parts of her brain matter, to be exact.”

Bruce narrowed his eyes. “You think it was them?”

“The cerebrospinal fluid doesn’t just up and leak out your nose, B. Something attacked her and I don’t know about you, but I can’t think of anything in Gotham capable of doing this. Aside from that, her time of death is too much of a coincidence to not at least consider a connection. I’m not saying it’s them without a doubt, but it’s a high probability, yes.” 

His gaze still focused on the picture, Bruce couldn’t help but agree with Barbara. But if it really was the alien’s handwork, then there was another more pressing question that needed to be answered. 

Why Gotham?

A notification on Barbara’s end turned his attention back to her. He quickly switched back to Barbara’s video transmission and watched her expression turn from seriousness to surprise and then to concern.

“What is it?”

She took a moment to compose herself before she turned back towards him. “We ran the girl’s blood through our systems, but there’s still no match. She probably wasn’t in the system, so finding out who she was will still take some time. But hers isn’t the only blood we found.”

Again, she stopped talking and, rather unusual for her, started biting her lip. She was obviously troubled by whatever she found. 

“This doesn’t make any sense,” she mumbled and briskly resumed typing. “They found the other sample only a few feet away from the girl. Due to the rain it was difficult to even get enough for a DNA test. Maybe the DNA was corrupted.” She added as an afterthought. Like she didn’t belief her own words yet desperately tried to confirm her error. But most of all, she was stalling. She didn’t want to tell him what she’d found. Whether it was because she really believed she’d made a mistake or because she thought he wouldn’t like the answer, he didn’t know.

“Oracle,” Bruce finally snapped. She flinched and immediately turned back to Bruce, her expression uncertain. 

Bruce’s fingers twitched where they gripped his biceps. He hadn’t seen a reaction like that from her in a very long time. It was so unlike the cold professionalism she usually radiated. He wasn’t so sure anymore he really wanted to know what she’d found. He knew _Batman_ had to in order to solve this hide and seek game these aliens apparently wanted to play. Beneath the cowl though, Bruce wasn’t so sure if _he_ wanted to know.

“Whose blood is it?” He forced himself to ask.

She opened her mouth to answer but closed it again only a heartbeat later. After a small moment of contemplation, she seemingly regained her composure and just, like Bruce himself did so very often, shoved all her troubled thoughts into a small corner to deal with later, sobriety washing away her uncertainty.

“It’s Jason’s blood.”

Now he understood her hesitation. His arms fell to his sides, grasping for air. 

Just when he thought one problem was solved, life was already there putting obstacles in his way again. 

When Alfred had informed him that Jason was back in the cave and finally not unaccounted for anymore, the heavy weight Bruce hadn’t known he’d carried had been lifted from his shoulders. He knew Jason was an adult now. His son knew how to care for himself. However, his silence after the alarm had been more than a bit concerning. 

He’d known, that Jason had still been unconscious for no apparent reason besides a cold or possible pneumonia and even though that had been concerning, he’d been relieved to know him safe in the cave. There had been no information on how he’d ended up with in this state or under what circumstances he’d been found and Bruce hadn’t asked. He’d simply thought as long as it was irrelevant to their current crisis he didn’t need to be informed. 

But as it turned out now, it was important. 

“B.” Barbara’s stern voice pulled him out of his thoughts. “It wasn’t him.”

For a small moment he didn’t know what she was talking about. Who hadn’t done what? It wasn’t until she continued that he understood what she was alluding to. 

“I wouldn’t even know how he should have been able to pull this off. _I_ wouldn’t even know how to pull this off. I’m sure-”

“Oracle,” he cut off her rambling. His fists tightened at his sides at the sole implications of her words. He would never–

“I didn’t suspect him of anything.” Though unintentional, his voice clearly delivered what he thought of her insinuation. How dare she imply he’d suspect Jason of killing that little girl. The sole thought of Jason ever laying a hand on a child was ludicrous. Bruce may have done plenty of mistakes as a parent, he wasn’t bold enough to deny that, but he would never suspect one of his children of murder, not without hard evidence. 

Maybe a year ago he wouldn’t have been so quick to dismiss the possibility, but in the last months Jason had made an effort to refrain from lethal force. He’d showed them all his inner strength and volition. 

And he’d showed Bruce that even though his fifteen year old son had died, didn’t mean the eighteen year old teen that returned was worth anything less. He was as much his son as any of his other kids. 

He reminded himself of the fact that as much as he cared for Jason, Barbara did as well. She’d been skeptical about Jason’s change of heart – or rather, recovery – but in the end he’d wormed his way back into her heart as well, just like he’d done when he was little. She had only been worried about Jason and what the discovery of his blood at the crime scene would entail. 

As Bruce tried to focus on that fact, he relaxed his stance and uncurled his fists. “I would never suspect him of such a crime.”

At those words Barbara’s gaze softened and she gave a small nod. “I’m sorry. I just…”

“It’s okay,” Bruce said, “we have a more pressing matter at our hands.”

“You’re right,” she agreed and swiftly started typing again. “Pulling up the CCTV footage of the alley-” She froze, her brows knitting together. 

“What is it?”

“The footage was deleted.”

“What.” Bruce barely kept from taking a step forward. The surprise and suspicion he felt was mirrored on Barbara’s face. “By who?”

“I’m following the trail now. Whoever did this was sloppy, it’s like they want to be found.” 

Seconds of silence followed, only interrupted by the sound of her brisk typing. Suddenly, she stopped and he watched as her brows climbed to her hairline. 

“The signal’s coming from the batcomputer.”

Barbara had barely finished when Bruce was already typing away on his console. He was quick in opening the video feed of the cave. Last he was informed, Tim was currently working at the computer. 

When the life feed of the cave opened it only showed static. Whoever did this also tampered with the cameras in the cave. They were all dead.

He quickly called up the backup feeds saved in an encrypted part of the computer’s network only he – and probably Barbara as well – had access to and went back to about fifteen minutes ago. In one window he saw Tim still sitting at the computer, immersed in his work, while Jason was sleeping on another one that showed the med bay. There was nothing suspicious on either of the other cameras he had distributed throughout the entire cave. 

He fast-forwarded until, after five more minutes had passed, there was a change in one of the cameras. Returning the feed to normal speed he watched as his second eldest son slowly woke and sat up in his bed. 

Bruce immediately knew that something was wrong. There was no hint of Jason’s normal caution, no hint of the training he underwent from both him and who knew who else in his time with the League of Shadows. He didn’t take in his surroundings, didn’t make sure to see if he was alone or where he was. Nothing. 

He took out his IV, ignoring the blood that escaped through the puncture site, simply letting it run down his arm and onto the white beddings. 

Bruce watched with bated breath as Jason made his way over to the batcomputer, where Tim had finally managed to tear his eyes away from the bright monitors. When Jason came to a stop just behind Tim, Bruce let out a silent and futile prayer for Tim to turn around in time.

He couldn’t help his flinch when Tim’s head connected with the keyboard and left bloody smears on the console. When Jason’s hand finally closed around Tim’s throat, Bruce was already setting the zeta tube’s destination to the Batcave. Just when he turned, to get to both his sons’ sides and try to get the situation under control he heard Barbara take in a sharp breath through her teeth. His head turned back towards the screen and he watched in horror as Jason held up a knife. 

“No!” He heard his voice echo through the empty room while wide eyes followed the deadly weapon as it descended. When the knife finally hit pale skin and the dark red blood of his son flowed out of the wound, Bruce felt his heart stop for beat. 

“Oh God.” He faintly heard Barbara’s whisper while he still tried to grasp what just happened. But no matter how much it felt like time stood still for him, how much he needed it to stop for him to grasp the situation, the feed was still continuing before his eyes. 

He looked on helplessly at the knife protruding from Jason’s forearm, Tim’s unconscious body falling to the ground as Jason’s grip loosened due to the knife between his ulna and radius. The most unnerving matter of the whole thing was Jason’s lack of reaction. His son simply watched with a detached expression as the blood kept running down his arm and onto the cold floor of the cave. Jason dropped his arm, stepped over Tim’s unconscious form and sat down at the console, typing with blood smeared key’s and deleted the footage from the alley. Whatever had happened in that alley, Jason – or whatever that thing was that looked like his son – didn’t want them to know.

“Bruce,” Barbara breathed, startling him out of his thoughts. There was too much else going through his head to register her slip up by calling him by his name. He knew what he had to do. 

And he had to do it fast.

He took a steadying breath and a second to collect himself. Panicking would neither help Tim nor Jason – wherever his son might be, because the person on-screen sure as hell couldn’t be him.

“Oracle,” he started, turning back towards the zeta tube, “I need you to shut down the batcomputer, we can’t allow him any more access to any other data. And inform Alfred of the situation. Tell him to put the cave into lockdown immediately.”

“B, I’m not–”

“Barbara,” Bruce’s stern voice broke her off. At the sound of her name she immediately fell silent.

Batman wasn’t one to plead. He commanded and people followed, that’s how he worked. He knew, it would throw Barbara off and maybe distract her enough to follow his instructions without being too offended. He knew she prided herself in independency, that she resented following orders like a soldier, but only this once he needed her to. Desperate times called for desperate measures. 

“Please.”

He didn’t wait for her answer. He didn’t have the time to do so. Who knew what Jason had already done in the time it had taken them to learn of his actions?

He turned his back towards her startled face and activated the zeta tube. For a short moment he was engulfed in light, his lung constricting ever so slightly like it always did when traveling with the tube. The tingling feeling in his body from the travel slowly subsided and from one moment to the next he found himself in the dark of the Batcave instead of the bright Watchtower.

Pulling out one of his batarangs, Bruce immediately crouched low and slid behind one of the many stalagmites in the cave. He couldn’t hear anything besides the bats’ rustling and squeaking overhead.

He needed to be careful. The light from the zeta tube had doubtlessly betrayed his arrival, not to mention the announcement itself. 

Jason knew he was here. 

When there was no sign of immediate danger, Bruce slowly duck out from behind the rock. Batarang still in hand and on high alert, he made his way deeper into the cave. Once he was closer to the center of the cave his eyes fell onto his third son. Tim was still lying unmoving on the cold ground. With quick steps Bruce made his way over to him and, after putting away the batarang, gently picked him up from the ground. 

To Bruce’s utter relief, Tim was breathing and the wound on the right side of his forehead had already stopped bleeding. Relieve flooded Bruce as he realized that the attack had looked worse than it’d actually been. Still, he needed to get Tim to a more secure place, where he’d be safe until Bruce had the situation under control again. 

He gathered Tim up in his arms and maneuvered him a few feet to the right, beneath the console of the computer. There he would be at least partially protected by the doubtlessly oncoming fight.

In his arms, Tim gave a soft groan. “B?”

The soft whisper barely made it past the no doubt concussed boy’s lips, but it still cut through the silence like knife. 

“Yeah, it’s me Tim.” He brushed the sweaty black hair out of his son’s face. “Everything’s gonna be alright, chum.”

Barely conscious, this statement seemed to be enough to reassure Tim and pull him back to unconsciousness, but not before giving a minuscule nod and a relieved smile settling on his features. 

After making sure Tim was secure and the chair was pulled in front of him to give further protection, Bruce turned back towards the rest of the cave. To his surprise, there was still no sign of Jason. He’d thought he would’ve been ambushed by now, there had been plenty of opportunities already. 

That’s when he finally realized that even though Jason knew that he was here, he didn’t know that Bruce had seen the video feeds. He didn’t know that Bruce was aware of what he’d done.

Remembering that information, he tried to loosen the tension in his body. Maybe with the new strategy forming in his head he could decoy Jason, possibly even end this whole thing without any further intricacies. Whatever happened to his second eldest was somehow most likely linked to the aliens, so detaining him could be the key to resolving this whole mess.

“Jason?” He tried making his voice sound as worried as he could. He took a few steps towards the med bay, trying to seem as inconspicuous as possible. “Are you okay? Answer me, Jason!”

To his complete and utter surprise, the sound of scuffling feet reached his ears after only a few seconds. He turned towards the sound and found his breath stuck in his throat for a second.

Only a few feet away he saw as Jason slowly made his way out of the dark of one of the caves many alcoves. Around his hip he had a gun in a holster and one of Batman’s utility belts, packed full of batarangs, explosives and who knew what else. But that wasn’t what held Bruce’s attention right now. He was frozen by the state his son was in. Back on the camera’s feed he hadn’t been able to make out all the fine details, but now, up close, he could see the ashen skin and the sunken eyes perfectly. The dark veins, stretching out from his neck upwards and the red of his sclera. His nose was profusely bleeding, covering the lower half of his face in dark red blood. As if that wasn’t already enough, the teen was clutching his impaled arm, the fabric of his gray t-shirt soaked in blood.

For the first time since seeing the cave’s feed, Bruce faltered in his believe that whatever had attacked Tim, hadn’t been his Jason. He hadn’t known how the aliens would’ve done it, but he’d firmly believed that they’d somehow just taken on Jason’s appearance. But standing here now and looking at the form in front of him, he couldn’t help but recognize the error in his believe. 

Suddenly, Jason came to a stop and looked at Bruce with his red and blue-green eyes. He was trembling like a leaf and struggled to open his mouth. With a strained and unsure voice, he finally managed to speak. “B-Bruce.”

Bruce sucked in a sharp breath through his teeth and clenched his hand, trying to hide the small tremors. Once he’d calmed, he took a cautious step closer towards Jason. With as small a motion as possible, he reached into the pouch at his hip, gripping a syringe inside with his gloved hand. “What happened here? How did you get hurt?” Just another two steps and he would be close enough to overpower him and sedate him. He simply had to hold up the act. Make the other believe they’re still safe and free from any suspicion. 

Bruce immediately realized the moment Jason saw through his ploy. The scared and hurt expression on his face vanished just as quickly as the trembles in his limbs. He straightened up, any and all exhaustion or pain seemingly forgotten and lifted his right arm. The punch was surprisingly strong and fast, considering the prior state Jason had been in. His fist connected with Bruce’s jaw and despite alleviating some of the damage, he would most likely have a sore jaw for the next week. 

He ducked underneath the next kick and rolled behind Jason, coming back up with an attack of his own. Punch by punch he regained his footing and gained the upper hand in the fight he’d hoped to avert. After a particular hard punch to the solar plexus, Bruce expected the natural reaction, a gasp for air and for Jason to retreat and collect himself. Instead, there was only a small hitch to the other’s breath. The only indication that he’d actually hit Jason was the pained look that creeped into his features. 

Throughout the whole fight, Bruce observed Jason’s reactions closely. Every time he hit Jason, the teen continued as if he hadn’t felt the punch. If it weren’t for the bleeding cuts his punches left behind, Bruce would have thought he hadn’t hit him in the first place. 

Jason fought relentlessly. He didn’t take any breaks to breath or compose himself. Every hit was ignored. He neither refrained from using his impaled arm to guard himself or attack. It was unnerving to watch the blood gush from the open wound every time Bruce’s fist connected with the injured limb. 

But despite it all, Jason didn’t slow down, nor did his punches lose their force. It almost seemed like he didn’t feel the pain or the exhaustion in the first place.

Finally, Bruce found an opening and charged. He grabbed Jason’s uninjured arm and twisted it around on his back. With a swing of his foot he swept Jason off his feet and to the ground. Bruce pushed his right knee into Jason’s back and held his right arm at a most certainly uncomfortable angle.

“Enough. Who or what are you? Reveal yourself!” To emphasize his superiority, he pushed the arm further upwards, eliciting a soft gasp. The first real reaction since this fight had started, but nothing more. “Now!”

The only response he got was the turn of his head, as Jason’s tired eyes zeroed in on him.

Suddenly, Jason lifted his injured arm up towards his face and before Bruce could realize what happened, he closed his mouth around the knife’s hilt and pulled it out in one smooth motion. With the way Jason’s body was twisted, Bruce felt the arm still in his grasp give and the shoulder popped out of its socket. But Jason ignored the injury and instead took the knife in his injured hand and with a too fast movement than should be possible in his state, attacked. Bruce barely managed to let go of the dislocated arm and move out of the way of the knife’s path. With both his arms freed once again, Jason took another swing with the knife. In order to evade the knife again, Bruce had to jump off Jason, releasing the other once again. He turned around towards his opponent only to come face to face with the barrel of a gun. 

Bruce froze, not daring to move a single muscle. He could feel the soft touch of his mother’s slim hand on his shoulders, trying to calm him, even though he could feel their tremble. He could see his father in front of him, trying to protect his family even if it was futile. And he could feel his own breath coming short and his heartbeat quicken.

He despised how guns could still have this power over him. Even after all these years of practice he couldn’t just forget what he’d felt that night. Couldn’t just shut it off and forget, especially not when family was involved.

“Dad…” The soft voice was what finally awoke him from his stupor. His gaze still fixed on the gun, he immediately noticed the tremors running through it. There was no steady grip that would prevent Bruce from knocking that damned weapon out of his son’s hand, but instead his gaze was drawn towards the source of that quiet and wavering voice. That voice that sounded so scared and hurt and so much like his son’s. 

Jason’s clam face was covered in dirt and blood, but a river of tears cut through them both. The Anguish and terror that were so clear in his features were undermined with the creases between his upturned brows. Creases someone his age shouldn’t have. The deep breaths he took seemed like they weren’t enough, for he wouldn’t let one reach his lungs before already taking in the next. Yet, through all this, the most prominent thing were his eyes, shining a bright green. A green that Bruce would recognize anywhere. 

The Lazarus Pit. 

The only time Bruce could remember Jason’s eyes glowing like that had been either when he’d been enraged beyond reason or he’d sustained a life-threatening wound and the pit had used its healing abilities. Or at least tried to use the bit that was still left in Jason.

This was his Jason. His _son_.

“D-dad…” The trembling worsened more and more, the grip Jason had on the gun slackening ever so slightly. “It hurts.”

As his son’s voice cracked on the last word, Bruce felt a piece of himself do the same. He could see his son was in pain and didn’t know how to help him. He didn’t know what was controlling him or what was happening. 

He was truly and utterly helpless.

Suddenly, Jason moved and Bruce prepared for another attack, only it never came. To his shock, he watched as Jason lifted the gun up and pointed it at his temple.

“Jason! Don’t!” Bruce shouted, already reaching for Jason, hoping to be fast enough to prevent the gun from going off and ripping his son away from him once again. 

With a loud clatter the dreaded gun fell to the ground and instead of a gunshot, it was Jason’s cry of agony that echoed through the cave. Bruce rushed to his side, as Jason collapsed to the ground, clutching his head and relentlessly scratching at his scalp. Fruitlessly, Bruce tried to pry away Jason’s hands, watching on helplessly as blood started to seep from the self-inflicted wounds. 

“Jason, stop it!”

But his words were futile. It was as if Jason didn’t hear his voice, too caught up in his own fear and panic to realize what was happening around him. 

With a sudden swing of his arm, Jason pushed Bruce aside and stumbled back up on his feet. His feet scuffling on the ground, he tried to get as far away from Bruce as he could manage in his current state.

That was when Bruce finally saw it. Now, from afar and not covered by his son’s hand anymore, he could see the erratic movements of what he could only describe as arms or tentacles in Jason’s ear. With horror he watched as the thing freed itself from within Jason’s head and wiggled out, the slimy dark arms writhing around it, as if it were in pain. As soon as the last limb was free, Jason collapsed to the ground like a doll with its strings cut, remaining unmoving on the ground.

And with growing dread the many questions that had flowed through Bruce’s head for the past six hours were answered. Where had the aliens gone? What was their objective? What happened to Jason and how were he and the death of the little girl connected? Suddenly it all clicked into place.

Bruce was barely able to grasp the situation, when his vision was covered by a black wriggling mass. He felt countless arms, writhing over his face, desperately trying to claw through the thick material of his cowl. If it weren’t for the alien still clinging to his face, he’d let out a sigh of relieve for not taking off the cowl. 

Finally, he managed to get a hold on the creature and ripped it from his face. With a strong grip he pushed it to the ground and with his other free hand, pulled out a batarang. Before the creature could escape from his hold, he quickly brought down the sharp blade. He waited until the last of the arms stopped moving before he dared to let go of the alien. 

After watching the creature for a few more seconds, making sure it was really dead, he stood and rushed to Jason’s side. He crouched down next to his son and carefully gathered him up in his arms, minding his countless injuries. Jason’s skin was still ashen, his eyes surrounded by dark circles, but at least Bruce could see that the dark veins covering his neck until now had almost completely vanished. But, though his nose had stopped bleeding as well, he could see through the half-lidded eyes that his son’s sclera were still bloodshot. 

“Jason,” Bruce said, softly shaking Jason in hopes of gaining his attention. But his gaze remained dazed and unmoving, looking straight ahead and eerily empty. His body was a heavy weight in Bruce’s arms, and with Jason being as unresponsive as he was, reminded Bruce too much of one of his worst moments in his life so many years ago. 

Despite the similarity, he didn’t spare a sole thought on the possibility of his son’s repeated demise. Not when he could so clearly see Jason’s chest lifting and felt his heart beating beneath his hand. 

But still, he couldn’t help but be unsettled by Jason’s unresponsive state. With every passing second and every unanswered call of his son’s name, Bruce felt his heart speed up and his vision blur. He pushed his cowl back, hoping that seeing his face would stir something in Jason. 

He tentatively turned the teens head so that their eyes met. “Jason, it’s me, Bruce. Your father,” Bruce whispered, ignoring the wavering in his voice and the trembling in his hand as he pushed back his son’s thick curls. But there was nothing. No reaction or even the smallest sign that Jason recognized, let alone saw him.

In the silence of the cave, Bruce felt something deep inside him give in as he curled around his son, engulfing him in his arms. 

It had been a long time since Bruce had felt this helpless. Despite all his knowledge, he didn’t know what to do. So, he did the only thing he could think of and held Jason tighter, hoping to somehow hold together what was slowly falling apart.

“Son, come back to me.”

His soft whisper echoed through the cave, his plea getting lost in the depths of the darkness without ever reaching his son's ears.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! You can also find me on [tumblr](https://pudding-bretzel.tumblr.com/) if you wanna yell at me.


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